


counted my lucky stars (all of them add up to you)

by shell-heads (chocopies)



Series: Cap/IM Bingo [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Parent Tony Stark, Teacher Steve Rogers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and steve is an absolute mess but he gets the man so really who's laughing, tony is a wonderful father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 16:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14169078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocopies/pseuds/shell-heads
Summary: Opening his mouth to introduce himself to the kids as they swarm the man who must be Mr. Rogers, Tony feels his train of thought teeter off its tracks and fall a steep death at his first look of Steve Rogers since Peter started attending school.He's ridiculously attractive, Tony thinks dumbly as an extremely well-muscled Greek statue stares back at him in shock, soft blond hair falling into stunning blue eyes and a pink mouth wide open in a way that makes Tony tingle faintly."Ah, I, um," Mr. Rogers is stuttering helplessly, eyes falling from Tony to the kids clamoring at his knees. He doesn't really get..any smoother from there, but it manages to charm Tony endlessly anyways. When Tony leaves Midtown Elementary, he's a heart poorer and a date richer.Steve? He's just glad he remembered how to English when Tony was around. God only knows it'd been hard enough as it is to not melt into a warm pile of goo anytime Tony so much as looked at him with that perfect hair and wide smile and stupid leather jacket.





	counted my lucky stars (all of them add up to you)

**Author's Note:**

> a fill for my stony bingo card!! the square was "slime" lol. this is really just 6k of tony stark being an amazing dad and being charmed by a super flustered steve rogers who's hOT for him,,, shamelessly based on the Mess steve was for peggy in ca:tfa

Glancing at his watch for the fourth time in the past minute, Tony slides his eyes over to the front doors of Midtown Elementary and waits for the tell-tale ringing of the bell to release the students, fingers drumming a familiar beat on the steering wheel.

It's the first time in two _months_ he's managed to get an early day, too busy helping Pepper deal with the Holocorp merger and attending the thousands of meetings that come with tedious matters like this. Happy's been picking Peter up from school every day while he was working, and even with Tony bringing work home to come early for more time with Peter, it's been a trial and a half not being able to spend time with Peter like he wants to. Petey's been an absolute angel about it just like always, but Tony resolved last week to pull a handful of all-nighters and finish all his work to clear his schedule for the next few days to make up for all the times he couldn't do more than help Peter with his homework and listen to how his day went; the last papers were signed and sent off to Pepper just this morning, her smile fond when she told him to have fun.

Humming to himself as he tries to wait patiently, his eyes snap to the wide front doors as the bell finally rings, small children pouring out of the front door in large swaths of bright blues and khaki shorts to get home as soon as possible. Tony steps out of the car and leans against the car door with excitement sparking off his skin, body vibrating with the need to see Peter's face when he realizes exactly who it is that's picking him up today. Scanning the busy crowd of children, he beams when he sees Peter's tousled brown head pop out of the doors to head down the school steps only for his brows to furrow in concern when he sees that Peter's head is hanging low, hands wrapped tightly around the straps of his backpack in a way that Tony knows is a sign of a day gone wrong.

It's been a while since he's seen a face like that-it'd been rough for Peter to get used to going to school instead of the Tower daycare, back at the beginning of the school year. Tony hadn't wanted him to skip any classes so he could make friends and experience things with kids his own age instead of feeling awkward at school, but being the smartest and smallest kid in the room no matter what grade you're in is _always_ hard, and it had left Pete reeling for a few months back there. Thankfully, his teacher had been more than accommodating and worked Peter into the class dynamics as smoothly as possible after Tony had emailed him his concerns, and he's been grateful for Mr. Rogers ever since. Being able to see Peter come home with a skip in his step and a smile on his face is a blessing Tony could have only wished for when he was younger. Hoping it's something smaller rather than bigger for Peter's sake, Tony straightens up intently.

"Peter!" Tony calls out, heart bursting with bright pops of affection as Peter's head shoots up, his round face lighting up immediately to chase the pout from his face and leave him looking like Christmas came early when his eyes fall upon his dad waiting in the car line. Tony's grin is back, ear to ear and strong enough to make his cheeks hurt at the sight of Peter's ecstatic expression, chest full to the brim with a bubbling mixture of love and affection.  
  
"Daddy!" Peter shrieks, running down the steps to throw himself into Tony's outstretched arms and cling to him with arms too strong for a five year old, face smushed against his dad's collarbone and a similar beam pressing itself into the warm skin of Tony's neck.

"Well, hello there, Peter Parker," Tony sing-songs, unable to keep himself from pressing a kiss to Peter's head when his son giggles, reluctantly setting him down so that the other kids won't embarrass him tomorrow in class for hugging his dad in front of the entire school. Eyes scanning the five year old before him, Tony's chest loosens with relief when he sees that there are no new cuts or bruises to accompany the hang-dog face he'd been sporting earlier.

"Hi, Daddy," Peter chirps brightly, falling forward so that his chin is pressing onto Tony's stomach, apathetic to the other hundreds of students milling around to wait for their ride. "Are you done with your work today?"

"That's right, buttercup," Tony replies, unable to stop the fond swelling in his heart when Peter leans into the calloused thumbs rubbing all over his baby soft cheeks. "C'mon, let's head back home."

"Okay," Peter agrees easily, pulling out of his father's touch to get in the car as Tony holds the door open, buckling in with little difficulty and settling his backpack on the seat right next to him.

"Alright, Petey-pie, how's our checklist looking?" Tony calls out as he buckles himself in as well, turning in his seat to look at Peter.

"Buckle, check," Peter begins dutifully. "Backpack, check. Lunchbox, check. Homework, check."

"Nice job, little man," Tony praises, winking at him through the mirror in front. "Now it's time to make like a tree-"

"And _leaf_!" Peter yells, smothering his laughter behind his hands immediately afterwards while Tony shifts the car into drive with a thumbs up to his son.

"How was your day, kiddo?" Tony hums, keeping a careful eye on Peter to observe his reaction and make sure he can pull over if necessary.

Face falling slowly, Peter looks down at his sneakered feet and starts playing with his thumbs, lower lip jutting out in the perfect picture of a little kid who feels terrible about something.

"Daddy..." Peter starts off, face scrunching with the effort to sound more composed.

"Yeah, hon?" Tony asks gently, the desire to reach out and hug Peter becoming more difficult to ignore by the second.

"What are you s'ppsed to do if there was something somebody wanted to do, and, and-you didn't _mean_ to-but you accidentally ruined it for them? You really really didn't mean to do it, but it just happened and now you can't fix it and you're super sorry about it? What then?"

Sending an encouraging smile to an anxious Peter through the mirror, Tony makes a left so that they're pulling into a familiar street, the house a nearing figure.

"If you hurt someone by accident, the best thing to do is to say sorry and tell them why you're sorry so that you can show them you know the reason it was something that made them angry or sad. If it was an accident, sometimes you can make it better by helping them with what they wanted to do in the first place," Tony tells him, pulling into the driveway and turning the key in the ignition before twisting around to look Peter in the eye. "No matter what, it's always important to know that _everybody_ messes up sometimes-and that if you mess up, you should try your best to make up for it in the ways you know how."

Patiently waiting as Peter furrows his brows in thought and slides his eyes over to his backpack, Tony puts on his most supportive face when Peter turns his eyes back to him with a determined look.

"Daddy," Peter begins firmly, "I messed up today. I accidentally did something that made people sad, and I wanna make it better. Can you help me?"

"Always," Tony answers honestly, laughing when Peter grins, free and easy. "Come on, Petey, let's get cracking on that homework while you tell me what happened, yeah?"

"Thank you, Daddy," Peter gushes with a cheer, unbuckling his seatbelt before Tony can move so he can smack a wet kiss to Tony's nose.

Blinking at the sudden turn of events as Peter quickly grabs his backpack and lunchbox, Tony shakes his head at the pink ocean of burbling emotion sloshing through him, teeth coming out to bite down on the soppy smile spreading across his face.

"How the hell'd my kid turn out so cute," he wonders under his breath before getting out so he can open the door for Peter, taking his hand as they walk in.

"Grandma Bertie says it's because you feed me five-star love," Peter answers, startling him into dropping the keys in front of the door with a laugh.

"Oh yeah?" Tony asks, chuckling and reminding himself to send the Rhodes an edible bouquet before the day was over; Roberta never admits it to his face, but she adores those carved flowers and chocolate-covered fruits he sends her more than any other fancy gift he'd ever given her.

"Mhmm," Peter hums, taking off his shoes as they enter the house and giggling when Tony bumps his hip against Peter's head, poking into his dad's muscled thigh in revenge. "Uncle Rhodey said it's because I'm only _half_ you, so the other half of me keeps me safe."

"You've been making fun of me with your Uncle Rhodey?" Tony faux-gasps, throwing Peter a betrayed look. "My own son! And to think I was going to spend my entire day with you to help you with your problem."

" _No_ , Daddy, I wasn't," Peter swears vehemently, attaching himself to Tony's leg and stifling a giggle into faded jeans when Tony groans in a show of great pain. " _Dadddyyyyy_ , you know I love you!"

"Oh yeah?" Tony teases, picking Peter up and throwing him up lightly to gain a squeal, "I think I'm gonna need some evidence for your hypothesis there, munchkin."

"Daddy, I love you so so _so_ much," Peter exclaims, enthusiastically peppering kisses to his father's cheek as he settles down into secure arms. "I love you more than anything in the whole _world_ , Daddy."

"Hmm, I don't know..." Tony muses with a hidden grin, shifting Peter over to his hip so he can open the door into the main living room. "I think I might need a little more evidence."

Taking his father's head into his pudgy hands, Peter turns Tony's face to lay kisses all over his face, his small mouth going from Tony's forehead to his eyes to his nose in a soft line of touch that leaves tiny stars sparkling to life on his tan skin.

"With this much evidence for your hypothesis, Mr. Parker, I think it's safe to say your hypothesis has been proven correct," Tony concludes with a quick spin on his heels to garner a laugh before setting Peter down, booping his nose with a flash of white teeth. "C'mon then, time to get to work, buddy. Tell me all about your problems, Mr. Parker, and I'll see what I can do about them."

"Okey dokes, Mr. Parker's Dad," Peter salutes dutifully while Tony grabs them a snack from the fridge, unzipping his jacket and folding it up into his backpack before he tells his story to his father.

Handing Peter a cup of water and settling down crackers on the table in front of them, Tony flops onto the couch and snuggles closer so that Peter's curled up against his chest, their bodies a shared line of cushioned comfort and his son's eyes solemn when he looks up to Tony.

"It was really cold outside and it made my chest feel a little weird, so Mr. Rogers let me stay inside for recess and help him set up for art time," Peter begins, Tony nodding approvingly at Peter for being careful of his asthma, "and it was really cool because we were gonna be making _slime_. I got to put out the colors and the measuring cups, but when Mr. Rogers was measuring the glue for our tables, I bumped into him and made it spill all over."

Pouting, Peter twiddles his fingers again before looking back to Tony, who's understanding the gist of the story now as it's explained to him.

"The whole bottle went on the floor and made it sticky everywhere, and I was so so sorry because I didn't _mean_ to spill it, Daddy, and I felt _so_ bad, but Mr. Rogers just made sure I stayed in a safe spot and cleaned it all up himself and didn't even yell at me. Mr. Rogers planned it for a long long time and had to get special permission from Mr. Fury because slime is special art, but it all got ruined because of me. Everybody in class was really sad when he said we couldn't make slime anymore, but he never ever told anyone it was my fault and promised Harry and MJ and Johnny that he'd make it up, but it wasn't his fault because it was _mine_."

Reaching out to curl an arm around Tony's waist and lean in for a hug, Peter asks, "Daddy, what can I do to make it better for spilling all the glue?"

Rubbing soothing circles into Peter's loose locks, Tony taps a finger at his chin and hums thoughtfully.

"You know what this situation calls for, Petey?" Tony questions rhetorically, arching an eyebrow at his eager son. "A shopping trip."

Eyes growing wide with understanding, Peter whoops and hugs him tightly, squishing his face against his father's stomach and chanting furiously.

" _Yes_ , yes, yes, thank you, Daddy, you're the _best_ ," Peter repeats happily, Tony laughing into the embrace.

"Come on, munchkin, we have work to do before we can go anywhere," Tony chides gently, nodding his chin towards the green folder peeking out of Peter's backpack. "Homework first-and _then_ we go shopping."

"Yes, sir," Peter shakes his head in agreement furiously, grabbing his homework folder and reaching through his bag for a pencil with a smile stretching his chubby cheeks into rosy dots of color.

After a call to the school for a Mrs. Jane Foster to help plan the specifics of bringing in the glue and allowing Tony a visitor's pass for the entirety of the class-"Mrs. Foster's class comes in for Art on Wednesdays, so she can help, and then it can be secret from Mr. Rogers too!"-and a pleasantly quick trip to the crafts store, the next morning comes easy enough despite Tony worrying about Peter being too excited to sleep properly.

Shaking his head fondly as he drops off a vibrating Peter with a reminder to deliver the glue to Mrs. Foster before school starts, Tony heads off to Mel's Bakery for an extra surprise not even Peter is aware of, smirking at the thought of the look on those kids' faces when he strolls in with a fresh order of mouthwatering cupcakes after a fun time of rolling out slime. Scrolling through his emails for the allergy list sent to all parents, Tony hands it over to the bakery for recording so that the kids can freely eat without worry.

Four hours later and armed with two boxes of cupcakes, Tony carefully knocks on Mrs. Foster's door during lunch.

"Oh, Mr. Stark, is that-" Mrs. Foster gapes, her hand flying to her throat in awe as the meticulously decorated galaxy-themed cupcakes appear into view on her desk just by the door.

"Please, call me Tony," Tony makes a face before perking up at her wide-eyed wonder, rolling on the balls of his feet and sticking his hands into his black leather jacket. "I figured art'll be pretty hard work today, so I brought a snack for the kids to match their slime."

"Call me Jane then; it would feel weird calling you Tony if you didn't. God, this looks absolutely amazing," Mrs. Foster tells him honestly, stepping back to grab a clipboard from her desk and gesturing for him to follow her. "Steve is going to _love_ this, I just know it."

"Mr. Rogers, right," Tony replies with a snap of his fingers, having momentarily forgotten his first name and blanking for a moment when she opened the door to the first grade classroom.

"Yes, right, sorry," Jane says sheepishly, stopping in her tracks to pull a whistle out from around her neck. "I'll let them know it's time for class again, so feel free to head over to that large desk in front. He normally sets up for Art while I watch the kids since I have planning next, but I switched with him today to organize everything secretly for you and Peter. The supplies are already on the tables, so you don't have to worry about doing anything yourself, but you'll have to share a station with Steve-er, Mr. Rogers-up front because we don't have enough room for another desk your size."

"Thank you for your help, Jane," Tony tells her with a quick smile, "Peter really wanted to make up for his accident the other day, so this means a lot to the both of us."

"Oh, you don't need to thank me for anything," she shakes her head. "You're the one helping _us_ out here by bringing in the supplies and amazing treats, after all."

With a nod, she leaves to round up the kids from recess, Tony moving to the front desk to pick up a tube of glitter and shaking it to watch it move for entertainment while he waits. Barely three minutes later, he hears excited chatter float through the open door and smiles as Mrs. Foster leads in a neat line of tiny children, her voice carrying over theirs.

"Mr. Rogers felt bad you guys didn't get to make any slime yesterday, so he invited a special guest and got more fun ingredients to mess around with," she informs them all brightly, the kids shrieking with joy at the sight of Tony standing beside their liberally equipped stations and crowding around a frozen figure at the back of the line.

Opening his mouth to introduce himself to the kids as they swarm the man who must be Mr. Rogers, Tony feels his train of thought teeter off its tracks and fall a steep death at his first look of Steve Rogers since Peter started attending school.

He's... _ridiculously_ attractive, Tony thinks dumbly as an extremely well-muscled Greek statue stares back at him in shock, soft blond hair falling into stunning blue eyes and a pink mouth wide open in a way that makes Tony tingle faintly. Steve Rogers is- _God_ , he's like everything handsome in the world melded into one person, clothed in a navy blue dress shirt and slacks that are _really_ not helping Tony's inability to speak right now. The tingle worsens the longer Mr. Rogers meets his eyes, a tremor running down Tony's spine and settling into his stomach with a hot simmer of liquid desire.

This beautiful knockout in front of him is the same teacher who spent an entire six _months_ personally emailing Tony every day about Peter's progress and spending precious hours coming up with different activities and homework to give Peter so his mind could be properly stimulated because he was on a different level than the other kids. The same teacher who helped Peter come out of his shell, make friends, treats him like a regular little kid and sends him home with a smile every day.

Tony would have had a better chance in _hell_.

Peter chooses that moment to wave at Tony, breaking him out of his haze and allowing for his vocal cords to magically reappear while the other kids thank Mr. Rogers profusely.

"Ah, I, um," Mr. Rogers is stuttering helplessly, eyes falling from Tony to the kids clamoring at his knees and giving Tony the perfect opening to swoop in.

"Hey there, kiddos!" Tony greets cheerfully after clearing his throat, catching their attention once more. "I'm Mr. Stark, and I came here to help you guys make slime today as a favor to Mr. Rogers."

"Are you Peter's dad?" a girl pipes up from the front, her brown hair tied in pigtails. "MJ says you are."

"That's right, missy, I am," Tony confirms with finger guns, setting them off into another large shriek of chatter.

"Why did Mr. Rogers ask _you_ to come, Mr. Stark?" another girl asks him directly, leaning forward with a curious blink.

"Mr. Rogers heard I was very good with my hands, you see, and he appreciates a helper who's good with their hands," Tony answers her with a swift tweak of her nose, her tiny giggles pulling at his heartstrings. Behind her, Mr. Rogers chokes and turns a dusty pink that leaves Tony itching to reach out and get closer, Mrs. Foster's face more and more amused by the second.

"Come on, kids, get into your groups and put on your aprons now or you won't have enough time to finish," Mrs. Foster urges the children, her words causing them to scramble madly for the tables.

"Alright then," Tony laughs, nodding farewell to Jane as she waves goodbye, Mr. Rogers finally stumbling inside the classroom to stand by Tony so they can begin the class.

"Ah-hello," Mr. Rogers manages to say, still appearing as though a rug has been pulled out from underneath him.

"Sorry if this was...unwelcome," Tony hazards unsurely, worried Mr. Rogers might be overwhelmed by his sudden appearance and change of plans, relief washing over him in a rushing white-blue wave as Mr. Rogers rapidly shakes his head.

"No, no, not at all! I just...wasn't expecting it," Mr. Rogers says in embarrassment, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "I figured Peter would tell you about what happened yesterday, but I didn't think..."

"I'd show up with enough clear glue and glitter to whip up a slime factory?" Tony guesses, immensely pleased when Mr. Rogers chuckles and quirks his mouth into an adorable half-smile.

"Yeah," he replies ruefully, snapping to attention when he realizes that the kids have finished putting on their aprons and are waiting impatiently for directions. "Wow, that was fast."

"I think that's our cue to get moving," Tony acknowledges with a rap of his knuckles on the desk, standing somewhat to the side as Mr. Rogers hurriedly grabs an adult-sized apron and moves to the crafty little station, brows furrowed when he sees Tony's outfit.

"Mr. Stark, your clothes..."

"What? What's wrong with them?" Tony wonders, looking down at himself to figure out where he went wrong and praying he didn't accidentally smear grease on his shirt before leaving the house. It'd be just his luck to run into the most gorgeous man he's ever seen in his entire life with an oil stain the size of Texas on his clothes.

" _There's nothing wrong with them!"_ Mr. Rogers squeaks emphatically, his voice rising into a pitch Tony's never heard before by the end of his sentence. Watching in fascination as a red-hot flush creeps over Mr. Roger's cheeks, Tony tries very desperately to keep his fantasies environment-friendly, the bustle of the kids behind him ringing in his ears.

"There's nothing wrong with your clothes," Mr. Rogers coughs, tone apologetic and thin. "They're very nice."

"Thank you...?" Tony tries, completely lost as to what's happening.

"We only have one big apron," Mr. Rogers explains tightly, lifting the one in his hands towards Tony. "You-you said you'd be helping, and I would rather not get your clothes dirty after you set this all up."

"Nah, it's fine," Tony denies, pushing it towards Mr. Rogers again as he understands. "A little glitter won't kill me, promise. I planned on going to my lab after this and getting my hands dirty with some work, so this outfit was a goner from the start."

"That's...nice to hear," Mr. Rogers voice cracks, his fingers clenched in the green fabric of the apron. "I'll just go ahead and-wear this, then."

Doing his best not to check out Mr. Rogers'  _assets_ while he puts on the apron, Tony draws attention by whistling to turn all heads on him.

"Has everybody washed their hands?" he asks the class, holding back a smile as the kids chorus, "Yes, Mr. Stark!"

"I see you've all got your aprons on too," Tony observes. "It's about time we got to making some slime, now, huh?"

" _Yes_ , Mr. Stark," they chorus again, buzzing with excitement and causing his grin to break out.

"Nice work," Tony praises, mischief written in the lines of his face. "Let me just learn how real quick and then we can get started."

There's a loud outbreak of groans and complaints, Tony snickering as he shifts to the center of the slime station and looks over his shoulder to Mr. Rogers.

"Come on then, you hear the kids," Tony teases, "if you don't hurry up and show me how to make some slime, there'll be a riot."

Swallowing audibly, Mr. Rogers assents with a quick jerk of his head, moving beside Tony close enough that their shoulders are brushing before facing his students.

"Okay, Mr. Stark," Mr. Rogers begins, pointing to one of the measuring cups in front of him with trembling hands and avoiding looking anywhere near Tony, "you'll need your glue first. The glue is in the red cup for every table, so p-please pick it up and pour it into your mixing bowl."

"Sure thing, Mr. Rogers," Tony acquisces, pouring the clear glue into the mixing bowl in front of him.

"Next, pour in the blue cup with the water in it, and then take your white glitter and stir it in. You'll have to be careful not to spill the glitter or glue on yourself while you're stirring, so don't mix too _fast_ ," Mr. Rogers directs, eyes roving over the first graders with a look so knowing that some of them elbow each other pointedly.

"After you finish mixing in your glitter, you have to put in your slime activator," Mr. Roger continues, leaning forward to grab a bottle on Tony's other side, a delicious earthy musk layered with spice floating up from his head to Tony. The blond straightens up again, opening the bottle to pour some into the bowl and enunciating his following words for his students as Tony blinks away the urge to bury his nose into a fair neck and inhale gluttonously. "Since this is a special ingredient, I'll be holding the bottle and pouring it into everyone's bowls for them so we can keep our tables as clean as possible."

"Do I mix it again?" Tony asks, Mr. Rogers throwing him a shy smile that has no place making Tony's breath quiver the way it does.

"Mix it up until it's all gooey and sludgy, if you could," Mr. Rogers answers, Tony obediently stirring the contents of the clear bowl they're using to allow the kids to see the entire process, pausing when it's reached the state they're looking for.

"Perfect," Mr. Rogers compliments warmly, Tony's heart skipping a beat at the smile that earns him before Mr. Rogers realizes he's making direct eye contact and ducks his head. "Now that it's like this, we put it into one big ball by kneading it and making it smooth. Everybody here remembers how to knead from our dough lab before, _right_ , class?"

A resounding agreement is his reply, and he grins proudly, the sight of it birthing a silver-studded marzipan butterfly in Tony's chest that flutters up to his throat and sticks itself there with frantic flaps of its wings.

God, this is so much worse than he could have ever expected. What the hell is the point of _literally_ building yourself a heart if it doesn't do what you want it to? Tony reminds himself to have Helen check his heart out at her soonest possible convenience, worried it might be malfunctioning with all this tripping and flip-flopping and drum beating it's doing all of a sudden.

"After you knead it, take one of the colors you have on your table for glitter and throw half of it on your dough," Mr. Rogers instructs, placing himself directly against Tony so he can stretch the slime and fold it over to incorporate the blue glitter he'd sprinkled in; Tony's entire left side feels like it's spontaneously been set on fire, his teeth biting down hard on his tongue at the unexpected direct contact from a man who can barely seem to look at him.

"You take it out of your bowl after the glitter's inside the slime and lay it flat on your table," Mr. Rogers demonstrates without a single thought to Tony's proximity, completely focused on working with the slime, "and then you poke it using your four fingers together, stretch it on one side, pull it over, and do it again before you stretch it from another side."

Freezing awkwardly when he notices how close he is, Mr. Rogers slowly withdraws and gestures jerkily for him to do the same motions, Tony carefully copying him.

"And that's how you make slime!" Mr. Rogers declares after gathering himself together with a glance sideways, his students' eyes wide and eager to get their own hands dirty. "Since Mr. Stark was kind enough to buy us everything we needed, we're going to be making galaxy slime instead of a regular slime today; everybody on your table is going to choose _one_ color-silver, light blue, dark blue, purple, or violet-and make a big slime with it, and when you're all done with them I'm going to come over and cut them into equal pieces for all of you to fold them up into a galaxy slime just the way we did this one. Does everybody understand what we're doing?"

"Yes, Mr. Rogers!"

"Slime time it is," he announces with a nervous chuckle, carefully inserting the slime activator into one of the apron's pockets and a large pair of scissors into the other while the kids burst into activity.

"Um, Mr. Stark," Mr. Rogers begins, turning back to Tony, "could you-"

"Tony, please," Tony interrupts, the smile he sends as he leans on one elbow absolutely dazzling. "Mr. Stark's a bit formal considering we've been talking for almost an entire year already."

"...Tony," Mr. Rogers rasps, his cheeks dyed apple-red in a satisfying bloom of color. "Could you please-that is, would you, uh-would you like to help me with the kids?"

"There's nothing more I'd like to do," Tony tells him grandly, biting down on his tongue again to avoid saying something that would get him kicked out for sexual harrassment.

They take turns watching over the kids and helping them, the floors staying _relatively_ clean and glitter-free for an art class. Tony drops by Peter's table more often than most, of course, and when the kids are showing off their finished products to each other he slips out to sneak the cupcakes in from Jane's classroom, leaving a pink and purple streaked one with a chocolate star on top for her services while she's in the teacher's planning lounge.

"I bring gifts for our hard workers!" Tony exclaims with a flourish, startling the class into a high-pitched buzz when they spot the cake drawn on the boxes. "There's a cupcake for everyone, but only if you have clean hands."

"Mr. Stark, you didn't have to," Mr. Rogers protests when he finally makes it to the front where Tony is halfway through the first box handing out cupcakes to grabby little hands and sees the glamorous white chocolate decorations and edible sparkles. "You've done so much already."

"Tony," he reminds him, sleeves rolled up and hair gently mussed from running around with the kids. "It's not a big deal, but it'll make them happy, and I couldn't resist. Besides, it's not _entirely_ altruistic, so don't worry about me."

"It's not?" Mr. Rogers asks with a furrowed brow, the second box set down on the smaller table beside them so that the others can simply grab one for themselves.

"Nope," Tony pops the 'p', handing MJ two cupcakes so she can hold onto Peter's while he washes his hands and sliding one down the front desk to Mr. Rogers.

"How?"

"Why, of course," Tony smirks as he peels open a cupcake wrapper and takes a smooth bite, the curve of his lips unknowingly devastating, "I get a cupcake too."

When he swallows and looks away from the cupcake, he nearly drops it at the sight of Mr. Rogers; he's _red,_ red to the very tips of his ears, a flush creeping down his neck and onto the sadly hidden flesh of his defined chest.

Tony's mouth has inexplicably gone dry as a desert.

"Uh," Mr. Rogers says blankly after a moment with a rapid blink of his very blue eyes, "that's-you've got-there's a-"

He gestures weakly to the corner of Tony's mouth, a sound closely resembling a whimper escaping his throat when Tony thumbs it clean and licks it off.

"Thanks," Tony replies, his lips stretching into a grateful smile.

"It's welcome," Mr. Rogers stammers, "I'm-there's a, a thing."

Hurrying away without another word, Tony's left trying to understand what just happened, hand coming up to cover the lower part of his face to hold back an enamored laugh. There's a warm burble of soft-shaded happiness in his stomach, lines of golden delight swirling from his heart in steady pumps outwards to fill ambrosia in every one of his veins and positively _thrumming_.

"He just said ' _it's welcome'_ ," Tony wheezes, shoulders trembling with effort underneath black leather. Resigning himself to a stupidly wide smile for the rest of the day, Tony takes another bite of his cupcake and admires the rosy tinge to the back of Mr. Rogers' neck from afar, the frosting a sweet melt of pure sugar on his tongue.

Two hours and a possible dinner reservation later, Tony asks Peter to go thank Mrs. Foster for her help before heading home, earning himself a moment alone to walk into the first grade classroom.

"I see you've moved your desk back," Tony points, approaching said desk as Mr. Rogers starts in surprise.

"Mr. St-Tony," he hastily corrects himself, setting his pen down to focus on Tony. "Did Peter forget something?"

"No, the munchkin's got all his bags packed and headed over next door real quick," Tony explains, settling one leg onto the fair wood of Mr. Rogers' desk and affecting his most attractive smile. "I was just wondering if you'd like to grab dinner with me sometime this week, anytime you'd like."

Mouth falling open, Mr. Rogers stares at Tony with utter shock written on his face, the classroom filling up with an awkward stroke of off-grey silence.

"Is that a no?" Tony asks with a raised brow, trying not to let his disappointment show and feeling his heart rabbit when Mr. Rogers trips over himself to stand up.

" _No_! Yes! I mean, I would-I'd _love_ to go out to dinner with you," Mr. Rogers blurts in a rush, his hair askew and cheeks the same appealing red that drew Tony's attention earlier. "I-yes."

"Great," Tony beams, unable to help the rushing shower of rose gold euphoria overcoming him in the face of the answer he'd been looking for, hands reaching for the previously discarded pen to scrawl his number on a pale hand.

"Call me," Tony prompts him, beam growing when he hears Mr. Rogers' throat click.

"I'll do that," Mr. Rogers breathes, his other hand wrapping around the number written in seeping black ink.

"See you soon," Tony salutes, a pep in his step as he makes for the door with a last lingering look.

"Wait, Tony!" Mr. Rogers calls out, drawing his attention. "I-My name is Steve."

"I'll look forward to your call, Steve," Tony promises with a roguish wink, waving goodbye at Jane as Peter cheerfully toddles out of her room.

"Today was the best day _ever_ , Daddy," Peter tells him emphatically, Tony taking his hand and pulling out his sunglasses.

"It sure was, buddy," Tony says with feeling, thinking back on the feel of a warm hand in his and striking blue eyes staring into his. It's been _years_ since he's felt electricity on his skin and a toss of his heart in the air on that kind of level, and he plans on making sure he gets to keep it. He wonders if it's too soon to be thinking of the future seeing as it there hasn't even been a first date, then shrugs. It's not like he was ever going to be what people consider normal anyways. 

"And, you know, I think Mr. Rogers really liked you a lot," Peter adds with a swing of their joined hands, Tony's intrigue piqued.

"Yeah?" he asks, feigning a vague interest despite the burning curiosity thick in his lungs.

"Yeah! He couldn't stop looking at you the whole time in class and told Mrs. Foster he knew where I got my looks from," Peter divulges innocently when they reach the car, unaware of the embarrassment he might be causing to his favorite teacher. "That means he thinks you look _good_ , Daddy, 'cause he's always telling me I'm a good-lookin' fella."

Biting down on the urge to double back and ask if that dinner can be tonight at this sudden wealth of information, Tony buckles Peter in and goes through their checklist before leaving the parent pick-up lane, making plans to ask Rhodey to babysit Peter for a handful of hours ahead of time when a call comes through the car's system. Spotting the name, Tony directs the call to his phone and picks up.

"I'm free on Friday anytime after five. For dinner, I mean. If that works for you," comes stumbling through the phone, a pause sounding before the belated, "this is Steve Rogers. Peter's teacher Steve Rogers."

Leaning forward against the steering wheel as he pulls into the driveway, Tony laughs helplessly at the fond burst of affection blossoming in his heart.

"One sec-hey, Petey, how do you feel about spending Friday night with Uncle Rhodey?" Tony asks giddily.

"That sounds _awesome_!" Peter whoops in the back seat, ecstatic at the thought of time with his favorite uncle.

"Perfect," Tony breathes, switching his attention back to Steve.

"My boss says I'm all clear on Friday. How do you like Japanese food?"

"Love it," Steve immediately responds.

"Saito's it is. I'll make a reservation for six," Tony informs him as he gets out of the car and carries Peter's lunchbox for him.

"Okay, I'll be there too," is Steve's fumbling reply, and Tony's-

Tony's never wanted to kiss a man more in his entire _life_.

"See you Friday, then," Tony says cheerfully.

"Yes, Friday," Steve stammers, "I'll-we'll do dinner. Dinner at Saito's, six o'clock. I-goodbye." 

"Goodbye, Steve." 

Staring at his phone all the way to the living room, Tony nuzzles his nose against Peter's when they collapse onto the couch together, his son climbing into his lap purposefully. 

"Something good happening on Friday, Daddy?" Peter asks him with another nuzzle and scrunch of his nose. 

"Yeah," Tony admits with a playful squeeze around Peter's middle. "It's gonna be the _best_." 

Two days later, he's proven absolutely right. 

**Author's Note:**

> despite it being a super cute idea i got rly tired of writing it bc it was supposed to be half as short and took five times as many days as it should have to write, so i gave up at one point and said screw it djdjfjjfjg i edited it after posting but if there's any mistakes please let me know and feel free to leave a comment or yell at me on my tumblr @shell-heads!!


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